


Not Yet

by Soloh



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25367350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soloh/pseuds/Soloh
Summary: For Gotham's Writing WorkshopJames Fraser is a thief. A might fine one too. But when he finds himself lost in the woods he discovers a glimmer of magic in a pool of water.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 17
Kudos: 51





	Not Yet

James Fraser was born a spectacular liar. A skill that kept him from tasting iron.

He'd once been a soldier in his youth. Seldom did he ever speak of it.

He betrayed his own kin, vile and wicked as they were and felt the shame of it alone as he was now.

Fraser was also a thief. 

And a mighty fine one too.

He wandered from city to village as far as his pocket could take him and when that was emptied he frequented the taverns. Watched the patrons with the finest coats, poured them drink that pinked their cheeks, slurred their speech, and spun for them bawdy tales that were the only truth he'd ever speak.

Fraser found his next mark in a brothel in the town of _Dùn Èideann_. A wee fella with a gourd-like belly and nose to match, the man was a traveler like himself who kept his purse strings far too loose and had a sweet black mare waiting just outside for the taking.

Unfortunately Fraser's luck had turned. 

No sooner had he stepped to the cobblestone street beneath the gloom of a sickle moon (a cheshire grin on his face as he talked his sporran heavy with the clink of not only silver but coins of gold), did he walk right into an old acquaintance. 

_The Comte St. Germain._

The poppinjay hailed not far from _Dùn Èideann_. A fine manor he had filled with a myriad of beautiful possessions that called for the thief's touch. Silver. Jewels. Paintings. A lass with flaxen hair that reached down to her white supple breasts and softly curled between her thighs. . .

He also had the company of five men. With swords. And the bastard damn well remembered him too. They'd been searching for him.

Fraser quickly turned back on his heel. Dodged the women, shoved the men. Wished he'd taken one last glass of wine and whisky as it spilled from hands down his sark and breeks. He made his way through the narrow hallways, outside to the alley. And still he ran. 

He looped back to where the mare had been tied, grabbed her reins and slapped her rump, riding her towards the dark haven of the forest that edged the outskirts of town. But the men had horses too and followed in blood thirsty pursuit.

Fraser urged the mare farther through the bramble and dizzying maze of trees even as she fought against the low hanging branches snagging painfully on her mane and his own. The gallop of the other horses soon became distant but he heard the last frantic shouts of their riders that struck his heart sure as any arrow.

_"Mon dieu! Partout! Partout où je les vois "_

_"Je ne vois rien!"_

_"Notre sang est ce qu'ils recherchent!”_

**Our blood and soul is what they’re after**

Then nothing. Nothing but the surety of his horse's hooves until she staggered to a sudden halt. Her ears pointed forward with panic in her eyes and gait as she whirled sharply in a round.

Fraser twisted the reins tightly in his white knuckled fist while the other soothed the mare down her neck. As he whispered softly, shakily, to her ear, he looked to the trees and bushes for movement but saw nothing in the sparse twilight. So he listened for the howls of wolves, the hungry growl of a bear but instead all he heard was a queer sound crackling in the air. 

Not of birds for they were silent. Or had they flown away? 

Not of wind for the air was cold and thick, laying a veil of mist upon him.

It was the unearthly awakening of the trees. 

Their knotted boughs and roots that jutted from the ground weaved together with a slithering snap, blocking the path he came.

" _A thighearna bheannaichte, dìon sinn bho dheamhainnean_ ," Fraser gasped with terror that roiled sickly in his gut.

His horse however had little faith in the almighty. She screamed in fright and reared, flinging him from saddle to the grass and stones, disappearing in the shadows. 

_"Damn ye!"_ He cried through the lump in his throat. _"Damn ye to the beasts!"_

A gash on his brow flowing ruby hot, Fraser scrambled to get his footing, cursing himself for not carrying a sword but only a dirk that he wielded blindly in the dark. He took a trembling step toward the moonlight seeping through a split between the boughs and dropped into a pool of icy water hidden in moss and leaves.

His face breached the surface and he gulped desperately for air. He always hated the water, feared the power it held.

Groping for the waters edge, Fraser saw a glow in the water beneath the ripple of dead leaves and twigs. He thought it the scales of fish gleaming in the light until it began to pulse brighter and brighter. Closer and closer.

With no breath to scream, strangled in his throat, he clawed at the ground just as something circled around his leg.

He found his voice but it was swallowed in the night.

Fraser heaved himself from the water. Lifted his knee close to chest, boot ready to stomp but then -

A woman!

It was a woman that had him in her grasp! 

_She looks a woman but a faerie she could be, man! A treacherous nymph ready to pull ye back in! Take yer blade to the creatures heart!_

_No! She wears the garb of man. Worn and beaten leather of a soldier._

His warring thoughts were left to hang when she groaned. Coughed. No. She was choking on something. Something black as death that she spat to the gap between them.

It was a stone smoother than black pearl that glimmered with stars at its core. 

It carried the infinity of the night sky.

" _What in heaven?"_

She lifted her face then, face plastered with long wet tresses, but he saw a glimpse of scars on each cheek faded from age. Someone had given her those, he thought in momentary sympathy. 

Then a flicker of gold starfire met his wide-eyed gaze of winter blue.

" _ **Not yet,**_ " she moaned through broken breath. _"You came too soon."_

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So this was written at midnight. I gave it a once over after that so there will be nonsensical dumb dumb mistakes! 
> 
> This is a small twist to the lady of the lake legend that I've had jumbling in my head that predates Outlander. A pinch of this idea is in Sorcha too that Ellen tells Jamie's when he's wee (minus the Babylon candle)
> 
> I can't write plot to save my life so this is it. They lived maybe happily ever after.
> 
> And major thanks to @gotham-ruaidh for giving me a kick in my forever doubting gut.


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